Her Defenses (version 2)
by bleedingrose0688
Summary: ***RE-WRITE*** see author's note for detail. "What do you two see in me that makes you want to try and fix me?" A new life in Boston meant giving up everything she had back home. That never meant that she had to give up her defenses at the same time. Rated M for language and (future) adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: As I was clearing some stuff off of my computer I decided to go through some of the stuff I had previously written, this story being one of them and I decided that I was not satisfied with how things were. I made the choice to do a major overhaul on this and hope it works better this time around. I will still leave the original up for fun but this is the re-work_

 **Chapter 1**

"The night was…"

So, here I am again on another Friday night, it is payday and the end of a long week. I should be out having dinner at the bar with a few friends or kicking back a few brews at a hockey game, but no. I am at home, in my pajamas, watching _Throw Momma From the Train_. I would feel somewhat lonely if it wasn't for the fact that I have two cats; both of whom are curled up sleeping on both my legs, only waking when I cannot stop myself from laughing at Danny DeVito hitting Billy Crystal in the head with a cast iron frying pan while the eggs go flying to the floor.

It wasn't until the movie was over when I received a message from an old friend from back home that I realized how much I missed my old life (at least pieces of it anyway).

I moved my entire life (for the second time) and my cats to jump head first into my career field. Prior to leaving I was temporarily living at my parents' home just browsing through job listings for anything that was related to anthropology and/or archaeology. A phone call from my aunt in Boston with a lead was all it took to get the ball rolling. I sent in an application and resume then played the waiting game to see if I would even get a response other than the typical "sorry we're going with other candidates at this time but good luck" that I had been getting for the past several weeks.

The six weeks it took from the time I sent my stuff off to the time I got the initial phone interview was slow as molasses. In that time I wound up getting a job as a delivery driver, just to be able to make _some_ money so I could help pay the bills. It then took another four weeks for them to call me back to say they wanted to do an in-person interview. It wasn't until I was on a plane to Boston that I was grateful to have taken that delivery position – the money I made from my tips alone was enough to pay for my plane ticket there and back.

Finally, a month after that in-person interview, I got the call back saying that I got the job. It was a lab tech position at the USS Constitution Museum; it was entry level, but at that point I would take just about anything as long as I got to put my Bachelor's to work for me. I did not spend all that time and money to get it and have it go to waste

Shortly after I started at the museum, I decided that the next logical step was to go back and work on my Master's. Granted, anthropology as a whole is a limited field, but being able to find a school that would enable me to pursue my ambitions was tougher than finding a job and a roof over my head. I eventually settled on Boston University to pursue a Master's in Forensic Anthropology. I also, somehow, managed to talk a few people at the University into letting me study linguistics as an undergrad.

In short, I managed to keep myself busy, but between work and school I always feel like I'm neglecting my poor cats. They very seldom see me and when they do they just want me to play with them and cuddle them; of course they want to have their food and water bowls filled and their litter boxes cleaned out but that's a given. I feel horrible when I have to push them away, saying that I'm too busy with homework or that I'm too tired to play with them.

But not tonight.

I quickly texted my friend back, changed into a pair of jeans and grabbed the cats' harnesses and leashes deciding that the three of us needed to get out for a bit and do some bonding. Trust me, I know it may look strange to walk a pair of cats on leashes on the streets of Boston, but the boys love being out in the fresh air and it's a good excuse to not have to a) clean out the litter boxes and b) watch them fill it up again not even 5 minutes later. Who could argue with free fertilizer?

Generally speaking, I haven't left my apartment much since moving to Boston. Of course I'd leave to go to the grocery store like clockwork every Saturday morning and on occasion I'd bump into my neighbor but other than that I had no real reason to leave the confines of my apartment. If I wanted some fresh air all I had to do was go out and sit on the fire escape. Although doing so meant having to deal with the never ending frat party two floors up.

The lady next door says it's only two guys living there but if that were true then they sure do make a lot of fucking noise.

Like all major cities Boston still has its crime rates and every day the murder count increases. Unlike all major cities though, Boston's crime rates are due in part to the mafias. The three major ones are the Irish, Italians, and Russians. Living in an Irish neighborhood the Irish mafia doesn't really bother anyone unless someone goes around stepping on their toes. The Russians and the Italians on the other hand, those guys like to cause trouble. Lately we've had the Russians streaming in buying up buildings left and right. Rumor has it they're forcing the bar down the street to close.

Then you got just the plain old, run of the mill type of criminal. The ones who hide out in the alleys, waiting for the opportune moment to grab a girl and rape her or pick-pocket someone as they walk past. You've got your pimps and hoes on the street corners just as night begins to fall. You've got your drug dealers who get busted on a deal then are back out on the streets doing it again in less than 24 hours.

If only vigilantism were legal…

I went with my gut tonight and decided to not only carry my pepper spray with me, but I also strapped my pistol to the belt loops of my jeans. It wasn't anything fancy; my dad had given me a Sig Sauer P229 as a parting gift. The best advice he'd given me to date was to make sure it was always loaded with one in the chamber. I never thought I would actually have to use it, but it was better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

I managed to get the boys into their harnesses and attached the leashes with relatively few scratches this time around. Normally they tag-team me with one going after my arms and the other going after my legs, but once I managed to get the door of the apartment opened they ran out as quickly as they could. The building that I live in would not have been my first choice but considering that it was cheap, err… rather illegal loft housing, I took my chances.

When I first moved here my aunt and uncle invited me to stay with them for as long as I wanted. It was a tempting offer considering that they lived in one of the more swanky parts of town but it just didn't feel right. It didn't feel like home and I felt so out of place being there. Just about every night at dinner my aunt would rattle off some nonsense she saw on the news which would turn into a story of "did you know…" and my uncle would be right there with her talking about how it was this politician's fault or that politician's fault. Then there were the nights when they'd ask how my day was. One particular night I made mention that I had spoken with one of my aunts, on my dad's side, in Texas and was thinking about making a trip down that summer to visit. What did my aunt and uncle do? My aunt started giving me a history lesson on the state of Texas and my uncle started listing all the reasons why he hated former President Bush.

The two of them were driving me so far up the damn wall I had to get out of there. The few friends I did make at work suggested looking in the paper for something that was close to the transit systems, which is what I started out doing. Then these same work friends took me out for a night of drinking. Somehow we wound up at this bar called McGinty's, the same one the Russians are threatening to close, and the bartender made a suggestion on this building. Despite his Tourette's he said two of his favorite patrons lived there and they took care of quite a few people.

In a way the old bartender was right; his two favorite patrons did take care of people who lived in their building. Some days I could smell fresh baked bread coming from the lady next door. When I finally got the nerve to ask her about it she said she always bakes two loaves every week – one for herself and one for the boys upstairs. According to her, they helped her move in when the movers dumped all of her belongings on the curb when her check bounced. Some mornings I'd be running so late for work that one of them will be standing by the front door of building holding the door open for me so I didn't run face first into (again).

That was a fun morning!

I was running late because the cats had decided sometime during the night to bat my shoes around the apartment. I found one right away poking out from under the stove but the other was shoved under the couch and pressed against the wall; I had to pull the couch out to try and get it, when that didn't work I had to use the handle of the broom to drag it out. When both of my shoes were on my feet I rushed out the door only to realize I left my keys inside and the door was unlocked. After running back inside to get the keys and lock the door I discovered that the elevator was out of service. My only other option was to take the stairs and by the time I reached the first floor I was already ten minutes late and had missed my train. I had no choice but to take the car and fight traffic. In my haste to leave the building I ended up running face first into the glass door.

The guys that were just on the other side were doing their best to stifle their laughs but it was no use. They opened the door and helped me to my feet in between giggles of "are ya alright lass?" My face was as red as a tomato with embarrassment but I forced out a quick "I'm fine" and was on my way to the parking garage across the street.

Someone must've told them which unit was mine because the next morning when I opened my door to go to work there was a note taped to my door reminding me to be more careful and a small Band-Aid in case my nose was busted. A few weeks after that there was another note taped to my door with one of those Ace bandages sitting on the floor; apparently they had heard about me twisting my ankle at work the day before.

Approaching the elevator I pressed the down button and waited. I gave a shutter as the wheels and gears grinded against each other and offered up a quick, silent prayer that I didn't get stuck on this contraption. Knowing my luck the wires would snap and this metal death trap would go plummeting down to the ground so damn fast my neck would already be broken by the time it hit the bottom of the shaft. Once it finally grinded to a stop, I pulled open the doors and climbed inside, thankful that it was empty. Grasping the strap, I pulled the doors shut and hit the button for the ground level. The cats were huddled together in the corner, sniffing around until their noses hit something repulsive. They both looked at me with their mouths hanging open for a second or two before they took off for another corner only to discover it smelled just as bad.

I would've kissed the ground when the elevator stopped, but not knowing what kinds of things had fallen on the ground, I opted for a quick "thank God!" The boys had a pleasant walk despite getting the odd looks from strangers and a group of teenagers exclaiming "black cats are bad luck" when we passed by. Yes, black cats have a bad reputation, especially with today being Friday the 13th, but my boys are nothing but sweethearts who want nothing more than to be loved. I wish I could say though that the way back home was just as pleasant. They freaked the fuck out when a siren started going off just a few blocks away followed by gun shots, so I had the misfortune of carrying them back home. It was times like this that I'm also thankful that I grabbed their carrier before we left.

Once the boys were safely stowed away in their carrier, I high-tailed it back home but as I crossed in front of one of the alleys I felt something catch on my hair. In my naivety, I had thought it was just caught on some invisible force like a spider web. I felt myself being dragged backwards into the alley when my instincts kicked in; I hated having to do it, but I dropped the carrier my cats were in and pulled the pepper spray from my pocket. Unfortunately, I panicked and dropped the canister. My attacker threw me against the wall and upon glancing up saw that his face was covered (the pepper spray wouldn't have done any good had I been able to use it). My head hit the wall pretty hard so I had no clue what it was he was muttering, something about killing me and then killing my cats. There was no way in hell some stupid motherfucker was going to hurt my cats.

Before I had a chance to grab my pistol out the holster, I felt a sharp sting pierce through my left shoulder. He wrenched the blade around in my shoulder for what seemed like an eternity, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins told me to grab the pistol and fire. I did just that. I flipped the safety off and pressed the barrel into his left shoulder. Squeezing the trigger, I fired a single shot into his shoulder and once he lurched back in pain, I squeezed off a couple more rounds, not really caring where they hit, put the safety back on, grabbed the cats, and ran like hell all the back home.

It wasn't until I reached the confines of the elevator that I heard an accented voice ask if I was alright, exclaiming that I looked like I just ran a half marathon in a somewhat amused tone of voice. I muttered, more to myself, that I was fine and quickly climbed out once the elevator reached the third floor. I wanted nothing more at this point than to get the cats inside and check them for any injuries. It didn't dawn on me that in my haste to make sure the cats were okay that I had forgotten to lock the deadbolt and throw the chain on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As the sound of a floor board somewhere near the threshold creaked under the heel of a heavy footstep hit my ears, I quickly threw the door to the cat carrier back in place and made a grab for my pistol. I had just managed to get the safety off when a strong grip latched onto my wrist and twisted it around, forcing me to drop my only remaining means of protection. My head quickly shot up only to be met with a pair of blue eyes and a nameless face.

"Fer someone who claims ta be fine, ya certainly don't look it," he said rather calmly as he eased his grip on my wrist. "I don't t'ink I've ever seen ya around here before."

"Wouldn't expect you to remember my face but I'm sure you remember laughing hysterically at the girl who ran face first into the door last month."

"Guess I didn't recognize ya with yer hair pulled up. But dat was different, yer nose wasn't bleeding and da only t'ing dat was damaged was yer pride."

"What are you doing here?"

"Ya left yer keys in da door." He answered, producing my keys from some hiding place on his person and setting them on the table.

The cats rattling around in their carrier caused enough of a distraction that, for the moment, I forgot there was a stranger in my home. Reluctantly, I got up from the floor and shut the door to prevent the cats from running out before letting them out of their prison. Once they were freed I went into the bathroom to attempt to clean my fresh stab wound. No amount of peroxide and cold water could ever get the blood out so needless to say my shirt was a total loss.

"Um, you wouldn't happen to know where the nearest urgent care center is, do you?" I asked, calling out from behind the semi-closed door.

A knock on the door startled me as I stood transfixed in front of the mirror dabbing a steady stream of blood with an old rag. A head of dark hair poked through the door before the rest of him appeared in the tiny room. Gently, he placed his hands around my arms and guided me to sit on the toilet seat.

"Closest one closed an hour ago; probably needs a few stitches." He started, moving the rag aside to have a look. "Dis time of night, not safe ta be going back out dere on yer own. Dere's an ER a few blocks down dat me brudder and I have gone to after we've gotten inta one of our scrapes. Folks dere are real nice and dey'll work with ya if yer strapped fer cash."

"Think they'll ask questions?"

"Aye, and probably call da cops."

"Fuck."

Sighing, I shook my head and threw the bloody rag into the sink. The action was enough to cause a sharp hiss to escape through my teeth but the pain subsided as quickly as came about. Frustration started seeping in knowing this night couldn't possibly get any worse. Once again I left the dark-haired stranger alone in some room of my home when I exited the bathroom to make a beeline for the kitchen. If I had to deal with the cops on this one then I needed something to take the edge off. Opening the fridge, I pulled out a half empty bottle of whiskey and took a long, healthy pull.

"T'ink ya could give me brudder a fair run fer his money drinking like dat."

"I hate dealing with cops and I hate hospitals." I answered, screwing the cap back on and placing the bottle back into the fridge.

"We'll walk ya down, stay with ya 'til dey patch ya up. Bring ya home safe and sound."

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't believe you right away. I mean you did just walk into my home, unannounced, and took away my only other means of protection. How do I know that you and your brother won't drag me off into some alley, rape me, then shoot me to death with my own gun?"

He disappeared from the kitchen for only a second or two before returning with my gun in hand. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I watched carefully as he put the safety on and removed the clip. The air grew steadily thicker as I waited for something to happen. When it finally did, it was not what I was expecting.

"Ever used it before?"

"Just for target practice, never thought I would actually have too." I answered as I propped myself against the counter. "I hope the fucker bleeds to death so he can never hurt another person."

"Ya know dey won't let ya take dis in da ER ot'erwise I'd tell ya dat if we try anyt'ing ta just shoot us where we stood," sliding the clip back in, he cautiously approached me, handing the weapon over once he was within arm's reach. "If eit'er of us tries somet'ing ya don't like feel free ta stab us with a scalpel, dere should be plenty in da t'ird drawer of da room."

Taking my gun back, I placed it on the counter and mulled over the different scenarios that just seemed to pop into my head. So many what if's, so many things that could go wrong. But I really needed to get this taken care of and soon because that dose of liquid courage probably wasn't the smartest thing to do to numb the pain.

"Alright," I conceded, "let's go to the hospital, get this done and over with before I change my mind and do it myself."

Glancing up from the most interesting place on the floor, I caught my stranger grimace and his shoulders shake, like a chill had moved up his body.

"T'ink dat's really da smartest t'ing ta do?"

"Probably not but it wouldn't be the first time I had to patch myself up. Go get your brother before I change my mind. Do you think it'd be better to call the cops now and just get the report done and over with or wait until the hospital calls?"

"Not a bad idea ta get it over with now. I'll go get me shit fer brains brudder and be back in a bit, promise I'll knock dis time."

He left without saying another word, the door quietly clicking shut behind him. I waited until I could no longer hear footsteps in the hallway before I hopped up on the counter to retrieve the phone, dialing the number posted on the fridge for the nearest precinct. It wasn't until the fifth ring when someone finally picked up, though they did sound kind of frazzled. Like maybe they just got off the phone with a stressful individual or maybe they had just gotten their ass chewed out by their superiors.

"Boston P.D."

"Uh, hi I need to speak with someone about a stabbing."

"Should've dialed 9-1-1 miss, that's what it's there for."

"Not everyone has cell phones and I wanted to report it before I went to the hospital and the staff there did it for me."

"We're a little short-staffed right now, got a triple homicide and most everyone is out there. I can put you through to someone's voicemail and they'll call you back later tonight or in the morning."

"Why can't you take the report? Didn't they teach you how to push papers in the academy or were you out sick that day?"

As I continued to press the officer on the other line to take the report, a knock sounded on the door. Briefly I asked for Officer Dipshit to hang on while I checked to see who it was. Despite his protests and the alarm in his voice not to put the phone down, that it could be the perp, I set the phone on the counter and walked towards the door. Even with that faint flicker burning in the back of my head that it could be someone else I found relief when I saw Stranger Danger and his tagalong.

"Ma'am I told you not to answer the door that it c-"

"That it could be the perp but it wasn't. Now are you going to at least take down a partial report tonight or leave it for someone else to do in the morning?"

Hopping back up on the counter the pair entered into the kitchen as I started to relay the important parts of the story. As I observed the pair, one found sudden interest in the contents of my pantry while the other was interested in what the oven might hold. When they got bored with that task they took a seat across from each other at the table and began a whispered conversation in what sounded like Italian. I didn't bother to pay attention to what they were saying as I wrapped my phone call.

"Everyt'ing alright?"

"I guess, piece of shit cop didn't want to take down any information, just wanted me to leave a message for one of the detectives."

"Why didn't ya talk ta someone in dat department?"

"Guy said there was a triple homicide and everyone went to that. He might be telling the truth, on my way home I heard a bunch of gunshots and hauled ass to get back here. That's when I got grabbed. So is this your brother Shit for Brains?"

"Who ya calling Shit fer Brains? I happen ta be fucking brilliant! Dis fucker is da shit fer brains! Ma even said ya were before we left home, said da only time ya weren't is when you were sleeping."

"No, she was talking about you! Ya always come up with dese hair brain schemes from somet'ing ya saw in a movie! Honestly ya watch too many fucking movies as it is," he scoffed as he began recounting what I assumed to be more recent memories, "Charlie Bronson's got rope and he always ends up using it. What's da deal with da fucking rope, honestly?!"

"Happens ta be a useful t'ing!"

"Well before World War Three breaks out in my kitchen and I have to use the aforementioned fucking rope to hog-tie the pair of you would you mind walking me down to the ER so I can get this stitched up? If you don't want to that's fine, I'll just do it myself."

"No!" they both shouted, causing my poor cats to scatter for safety beneath the couch.

"Connor's got a bit of a weak stomach when it comes ta blood. C'mon, let's go get ya patched up."

"Not really a weak stomach, just da idea of someone fixing themselves up makes me a bit nauseous."

"He's just trying not ta sound like too much of a pussy in front of ya, don't let dat face fool ya. A couple weeks ago at work dis guy we work with, James McCormick, sliced his finger clean off right at da knuckle. He screamed his head off at first but den our boss comes running over with da first aid kit and pours half a bottle of dat shit dat bubbles…what's it called?"

"Peroxide."

"Yeah, yeah peroxide, pours half a bottle of dat stuff on da cut. Mind ya, Mary was still on da phone trying ta get an ambulance. Connor here, sees all of dis going on and instead of being a man about it, turns around and hurls up his breakfast from dat morning. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, toast, even da coffee just a few inches away from where James' finger was."

"Shut yer fucking mouth! It's not like ya did any better! Don't ya listen ta word dis fucker says lass. While da paramedics were busy trying ta get da bleeding under control one of da girls we work with just plopped da damn finger in a cup of ice. Ole Murph here, his lunch comes up looking like t'ree day old potato soup."

"Okay you two, just stop. I get it, you both have weak stomachs and are a bit squeamish at the sight of blood. It's nothing to be ashamed of, lots of people are the same way. Now let's get going."

Hopping off the counter I walked into the living room and scooped my keys up off the table then proceeded to the door to slip my shoes back on. The strangers I allowed into my home went out ahead of me while I locked the door. As I approached the elevator I couldn't stop from cringing as the wheels and gears grinded against one another.

"I wish someone would oil those down or condemn the whole thing altogether."

"Don't like lifts?"

"They're metal death traps as far as I'm concerned. When I was in school for my bachelor's, I was on my way to class and got stuck in an elevator for what seemed like an eternity. People around me were as cool as cucumbers and I'm huddled up in a corner panicking. By the way, I'm a bit claustrophobic if you couldn't tell."

"Promise, we won't let anyt'ing happen to ya on our watch. We'll get ya ta do hospital safe and sound and if da wire snaps while we're all in here, we'll sandwich ya between da pair of us."

"Well, that's comforting, I guess. I'll die sandwiched between two total strangers in a filthy elevator and on my grave marker they'll put on there that I died having fun. My death certificate will say that it was a messed up attempt at double penetration that failed miserably."

"Yer just full of good vibes, aren't ya?"

"I might be a tad bit more optimistic once we get off this thing."

"Well, if ya t'ink we're all gonna die on dis we should at least know yer name, don't ya t'ink?"

"Nice try," I snorted, "but until I'm safely back in the confines of my apartment you're not getting any personal information from me no matter how hard you try. Even if I do make it back here in one piece I probably won't tell you anything even then."

"Fair enough. If eit'er of us die I'm Murphy and dis is Connor. We live up on da fifth floor and our Ma's phone number is on da table under da ashtrays."

The night was pretty fucking shitty if you ask me; how could it possibly get any worse?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Since ya don't really wanna tell us anyt'ing about ya, I guess we'll do all da talking. We came here a few years ago looking fer somet'ing, didn't know what at da time. Our Ma raised us on her own, says our Da walked out when we were only a few years old. She worked herself to da bone trying ta provide fer us."

"We travelled around fer a bit before we decided ta call Boston home. When we first got here we only had a few dollars ta our name. We'd pick up a paper every couple of days and just go t'rough da jobs section fer anyt'ing we could get our hands on. Fer da most part we'd get somet'ing in construction – roofing, framing, tiling – anyt'ing really, we weren't all dat picky."

"But it'd only last few a couple of days den it was back ta searching da papers. It was good money while it lasted; some jobs would pay us nearly twenty bucks an hour and between da two of us, after an eight or ten hour day it'd add up fast. Of course we were paid in cash and it was all under da table but we'd take what we could get."

"We just happened across Doc and McGinty's one night after we finished a job. We sat down at da bar, ordered a pint, and pulled out da paper. I got up after a few hours ta take a piss and come back ta find Connor talking up a storm with some guy who was pitching a job. Told da guy if he wanted Connor ta work fer him dat he had ta hire me as well."

"Found out his name was McGurk and he was a manager fer a meat packing plant; he just fired a group from da first shift fer operating some sort of crime ring out back where dey park da trucks. Told us if we were serious about looking fer work ta swing by da plant at five da next morning and he'd get us set up."

"Dat was nearly two years ago and t'anks ta McGurk we were able ta settle down in dat flat on da fifth floor. We don't need much, most of da money we make we send back home ta Ma. Like we said, she busted her arse ta provide fer us, it was only right dat we try ta do da same fer her."

Truthfully the walk to the hospital didn't take long but their talking helped to pass the time while I was busy filling out forms and waiting for a nurse to collect me. Every now and then they would try to peak over my shoulder to read the name I had written down on this form or read my birthday that was on another.

It seemed like an eternity before the forms were completed and I was able to pull my ass out of the uncomfortably hard plastic seat they call a chair. Tucking the pen into the clipboard, I walked to the nurse's station and laid the board on the desk; the nurse quickly glanced up from her computer and huffed out an exaggerated sigh as her hand reached out to retrieve the papers.

"Do you have your insurance card?"

"I just started my job; the insurance doesn't kick in until next month. Do you have any kind of assistance program? Those two over there told me they come here all the time and they get help." I asked, nodding to the brothers.

"Here," she started, "read over this, call the 800 number in the morning. Give them your name, when you were here and let them know you need assistance in making payments. Don't let yourself get mixed up with that pair over there; they're nice guys but they're about as rowdy as they come. Unfortunately, due to HIPPA and patient privacy laws I can't tell you about the things we've treated them for but if you ask them yourself I'm sure they'd be more than proud to show you their badges."

"I take it that means they're frequent flyers?"

The nurse scoffed at my question, rolling her eyes, "that's an understatement! Look, I already told you I can't tell you what they've been admitted for but what I can say is that if you value your life, liver, and health you need to stay away from them. Someone will come get you when we have an exam room open."

I returned to my seat mulling over the nurse's warning. They didn't look like bad guys on the surface, sure they had some visible scars but there wasn't anything obvious that sent me into 'red alert' mode. The cold plastic touching the backs of my legs told me I was better off taking my jacket off and laying it across the seat to provide my butt with a little bit of warmth but then the rest of my body would be cold. Braving the hospital grade blast of cold air that filtered down from the ceiling fans, I held my breath and slowly lowered myself into the plastic chair, feeling my back seize up while my teeth began chattering against each other.

"Cold?"

"Nope, wonder what gave you that impression."

"Smart ass; take mine."

"Thanks, sorry what was your name again?"

"Connor."

"Thanks, Connor."

He shucked his coat off and held it out, allowing me to slip my arms through the sleeves to wear it backwards. Admittedly, I wanted to inhale deeply when I pressed the collar of the coat to my nose but my face was as cold as the rest of me and I didn't want to seem like a weirdo in front of him.

"So where'd your brother run off too?"

"Murph? Don't quite know ta be honest. He could be taking a piss or he could be trying ta pick some girl up. You were talking with Miranda fer quite some time."

"The one at the nurse's station?"

"That'd be her; don't let her intimidate ya, she tries ta tell everyone we meet ta stay away from us but she's just mad dat we won't ask her out. She's got herself a crush on ole Murph and an even bigger one on me."

"Getting a little smug there, aren't you? Would it be wrong of me to ask why neither of you will take her out?"

"She saw us in our britches a little over a year ago and has been chasing after us ever since. She's not really interested in us as people, only interested in what's below da belt." Murphy answered, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Where da fuck you'd go?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Did seeing Miranda send you running for the hills?" I teased as I continued to wait for someone to come and collect me.

"Not quite."

A small giggle echoed through the empty white-walled waiting room, seconds later a leggy blonde came walking through one of the various hallways, giving a wink to the brother who remained standing. A crooked grin worked its way across his features as the tips of his ears began turning from pink to red. Her walk was a little wobbly and her lipstick was smudged just a bit but I failed to see a single hair on her head out of place. She disappeared through another corridor; a sign above indicated there was an exit in that direction.

"Really Murph? In a fucking hospital?!"

"Connor, leave him be. If she's staff at least she's in the right place to get herself tested."

"Ya saying I'm diseased?"

"Not saying that at all, just saying that if you knocked her up she's in the right place for a pregnancy test. The old pull out method isn't always a guarantee."

"Is that from experience?" Murphy snickered, flopping down unceremoniously into the seat next to me.

"Someone who I thought was my friend back in high school was seeing some guy that was two years older than her and she lost her virginity to him. She came up to me during lunch one day and said that she missed her period; I invited her over to my house that night since it was a Friday and told her she could take the test if she didn't want to do it at home. I'm sure you can imagine a 15 year old girl being scared to have that particular talk with her mom. Anyway, she came over and brought her test with her, peed on the stick, waited, and it turned blue. She cried the entire night knowing she'd have to tell her parents and the guy. Naturally her parents didn't take it too well; when Monday came and she told him…it was not a good morning. I heard him screaming clear across the hall that he pulled out and that she must've been screwing around with someone else. Last I heard, she's got a six year old little boy and he's getting his wages garnished for child support."

"Does she know fer a fact-"

"From what I heard they both demanded a DNA test when the baby was born; it must've come back showing he was the father otherwise she wouldn't have a court order for child support."

"Why do ya say dat she was supposed ta be yer friend? Somet'ing happen?"

"Fucking bitch turned her back on me when I needed her help; she was pregnant at the time but I mean if I gave you my shoulder cry on when that test came back positive the least she could've done was let me cry on her shoulder when I needed to, ya know? It must be nice though being twins, you'll never have that problem; you'll always have your brother when you need him."

The waiting game for an empty exam room had my patience growing thinner as the minutes dragged on. Thirty minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two, two turned into two hours and fifty-six minutes before I was finally called back.

"Want us ta go with ya?"

"I'll be fine, besides this shouldn't take too long. Maybe you can go find that cute little blonde again and double team her." I suggested, giving Connor his coat back and following another nurse into the back.

"Sorry for your wait, normally we're not this busy on a Friday night but there have been a lot of stupid people doing stupid stuff."

"I get it; HIPPA says you can't talk about it."

"We're going around the corner here into room four," she started as we walked through the halls, "so what happened? I see you came in with Connor and Murphy-"

"I got stabbed earlier while I was on a walk; I've already called the police but the jackass that answered the phone said just about everyone was responding to some kind of shooting. I think he said it was a homicide. Hopefully someone will call me back either tomorrow or Monday."

"Thank you for getting ahold of the police yourself, it'll be one less call we'll have to make and a hell of a lot less waiting for you."

"So I'll get to go home at a somewhat reasonable hour? I'm sure that'll make those two out there happy."

"Not to sound rude or anything, but why are those two with you? Normally they show up sporting fat lips and black eyes."

"They offered to walk me down because the urgent care was closed. I shouldn't say 'they' rather Murphy offered and he volunteered his brother. I'm glad it was both of them though; they've really helped keep my mind off what's going on with my arm."

"Well, before we stitch it up we'll need to take some x-rays and some scans just make sure nothing is seriously damaged. I'm just a nurse but I don't think there's anything severed like an artery otherwise you'd be bleeding out all over the place and you would've been rushed in as soon as you walked through those doors."

"Can we skip the formalities and just start with the stitches? My insurance doesn't kick in until next month and I have to call patient services to try and get some help making payments."

"I wish we could sweetie but I don't think you want to make another trip here when you do have insurance to get it fixed a second time."

Knowing she was right, I allowed her to finish taking my vitals and escort me to the x-ray room then to get an MRI. Unfortunately for the nurse she had to have the technicians stop the MRI machine several times due to my claustrophobia. Reluctantly, I agreed to let her bring one of the twins back to hold my hand in a vain attempt to help me keep calm. As the nurse returned I heard her voice talking in a hushed tone and one of the boys stifling a laugh.

I swear, if one of those assholes is laughing at me, I'll cut him.

"Murphy, be serious for a change, okay? She's been doing fine until now but as soon as she starts hearing the beeps and clicks from the machine she starts freaking out. I've seen grown men and women wet themselves in this machine and if you holding her hand makes the difference I'm sure she'll be eternally grateful. For some people putting a towel over their eyes helps tremendously and for others they need something physical to remind them that they're going to be alright. Just do this one thing for me and I'll get Miranda off your case."

"I honestly wasn't laughing at her but if ya could get Miranda off da both of us we'd be forever grateful to ya. What'd ya have in mind?"

"I'll just tell her you both got syphilis from some random chick you both hooked up with. It got Al Capone out of Alcatraz, you know."

"C'mon Sandra, dat's just plain mean."

"Then you can deal with Miranda on your own." The door to the imaging room opened, allowing another blast of cold air to enter the room and sending me into another back seizing shiver. "Sweetie, I got Murphy here, okay? He's just going to be sitting outside the machine holding your hand, okay? Do you need anything before we start?"

"A blanket if you can spare one? It's freezing in here."

Even with a towel covering my eyes I could feel the nurse, now named Sandra, nod. The sound of a cabinet door opening and closing coupled with the feeling of something warm being draped over my legs brought a small bit of comfort that for the moment I was no longer as cold as I was. The legs of a chair scratched the tiled floors and soon a hand was holding mine, bring about the biggest sense of relief that I had felt since this whole night began to unravel. Once the door clicked shut the beeps and thumps began again; my heart started racing and I could feel the tears threatening to spill outward.

"C'mon lass, don't cry it's only a machine. I promise, you're not gonna get stuck and you're definitely not gonna die."

His words did just the opposite of what he intended and I couldn't help but to cry as the grip I had on his hand tightened. A voice over the PA system could be faintly heard through the beeps and just as quickly as the procedure started, it stopped. The door flung open, hitting the wall hard enough it had me jumping. Seconds seemed like hours as the table slid along the track, coming out of the machine.

"Murphy, go wait with Connor back in the waiting room. C'mon sweetie, let's get you back to your room and we'll get you stitched up."

As we retreated back to the exam room, Sandra apologized profusely for the trauma I had endured while in the machine and her regret for bringing Murphy back instead of Connor. She had thought that Murphy would be a more calming presence but it was obvious that he stuck his foot in his mouth when he opened it. Sandra tried to ask what it was that he said but I refused to answer. Once we were back in the exam room, Sandra picked through the drawers for a tray, needle, and sutures; laying the items out for the doctor whenever he or she decided to show up.

It was another half hour before someone came back into the room.

" _MOTHERFUCKER!_ " I exclaimed nearly flying off the exam room table and through the ceiling as the doctor attempted to place the first stitch.

Apparently my attacker had done a bit more damage than anticipated and, according to the x-rays (and the doctor) I would temporarily lose the use of my left arm for a couple of weeks. It turns out that the blade had worked its way through some muscle and started tearing through some tendons.

"Ma'am, before I attempt to put another stitch in, I'm going to have the nurse come in and give you a local anesthetic. We'll let that kick in and then I'll be back to finish up." I had opted to get the stitches done without any type of numbing agent in the vain hope that the adrenaline that picked back up upon our arrival would be enough to get me through.

How wrong I was.

With that, the doctor disappeared behind the curtain and was replaced by Sandra, who was making notes all over my chart. God forbid they forget to charge me for something they used to fix my shoulder.

"Guess you're still having a tough time after what happened in the MRI machine? Not that it's any of my business but did you have anything to drink before you came here? You seem to be bleeding a bit more than normal."

"I had a shot of whiskey before I came here hoping it would give me nerves of steel. I know, alcohol thins the blood; my guy refused to tattoo me if I had even a drop left in me from the night before because he didn't want me to bleed out. Does this mean it might take more anesthesia before the doctor can finish?"

"Maybe, everyone is different. I'll start with a normal dosage and we can adjust it if needed. Do you want me to bring you a book or something until it kicks in?"

"No thank you, if you could though get tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb I'd appreciate it. I may need their help walking out of here depending on how much you give me."

"Are you sure? I mean after what Murphy said to you in the imaging room I wouldn't trust him to make me feel better."

"I'm sure, besides I'm sure he's had plenty of time to think of an appropriate apology and I'm sure Connor's chewed his ass out in the meantime."

"As long as you're sure, I'll go get them."

Sandra took out an alcohol laced pad and swiped it along the crook of my arm; using an elastic strap she tied the flow of blood off and waited a minute for a good vein to make its appearance. As she waited, she retrieved another alcohol pad, a needle, and a vile containing the local. Using her middle finger, Sandra prodded my arm until she found the vein she was looking for. Quickly, she tore the packaging of the second alcohol pad and swiped it along my arm. I couldn't stop myself from holding my breath as the needle was jammed into my arm and the elastic was released.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I know you're hurting and I'm not doing much to make it better, am I?"

"It's not your fault; I just have a bit of a weak stomach and an even weaker nerve. My mom used to be a nurse and she would sometimes have patients like me. I remember when I had to take her to get a CT scan done a few years ago she asked if I could stay in the room with her and hold her hand until it was over; she was claustrophobic too. I also remember that whenever I had to have surgery she would hold my hand when the nurses would start prepping me for the IV. The nurses would try to tell me to breathe instead of holding my breath but I couldn't help it.

"The first major surgery I can remember, they tried to start an IV and ended up trying to go through my wrist on the first attempt; the nurse blew that vein then she blew the one in my right arm on the second attempt." A shudder moved throughout as I recalled the sensation those blown veins brought.

"I promise, I'm going to do everything I can to make you comfortable. You know, a lot of nurses aren't like your mom and I; they don't try to make their patients comfortable anymore. I guess we're kind of a rare breed these days, huh? I'll just let that anesthetic start working and by the time I get back with the boys we should be good to start stitching you up."

The only evidence that I had even been stuck was the tiny blood droplets that rose to the surface.

Minutes later, Sandra returned to the room with the boys in tow. Connor was shoving Murphy's shoulder, giving him grief no doubt about his closet room hook-up a few hours ago. However they fell silent when they entered the room. I knew I looked like a mess – face tear-stained from the prolonged battle with claustrophobia, blood flowing from both my shoulder and arm.

Hell, I'd bet money that I looked pretty fucking pitiful.

But it really didn't matter how I looked, all I cared about was getting this visit done and over with so that I could go home and lock myself away for the remainder of the weekend until Monday forced me out of bed and back into the world.

"She's all good to go boys, just make sure she keeps that arm in the sling for the next couple of weeks and no heavy lifting; nothing over 10 pounds. It's good to see both of you with fresh faces as opposed to the bleeding, bruised messes I'm used to dealing with just about every weekend."

Connor chuckled a bit at the doctor's attempt at humor, slapping his brother on the back with enough force to knock him off balance and pitched him forward slightly. "Well, ya know Michael no week is complete fer us till we make a trip here ta see you and our favorite Nurse Sandra."

With my discharge papers in hand I hopped off the exam table and made a beeline for the door, completely disregarding anything anyone tried to tell me about putting my jacket on. I should've heeded their warnings because it was burr fucking cold out! A growl of frustration escaped as I shoved my arms through the sleeves despite what the good doctor ordered.

"You coming or not? I would like to go home before I freeze my tits off out here."

"Someone's a bit cranky."

I said nothing as the twins exited the hospital knowing that I would more than likely say something I'd regret. Afterall, they did help me get down here in one piece and it wouldn't be right to rip their heads off because I was having a bad night.

The walk home was blessedly quiet; I had locked myself away inside my head to mull over the day's events trying to figure out a way to prevent myself from falling into the same pit fall again. I had managed to walk so far ahead of the boys that Murphy was practically running to catch onto my right arm, jostling me out of my thoughts.

"Didn't ya hear anything we were just saying to ya?" he was panting a little bit and that was when the smell of cigarette smoke hit my nose as it danced along the night breeze. I blinked a little bit, not sure if it was out annoyance or shear tiredness. "Connor and I were gonna stop by da bar fer a few pints; d'ya want ta join us?"

"Not tonight, I just want to go home."

Murphy nodded in understanding, calling out to his brother to hurry his ass up. We made it to the building about 10 minutes later and after seeing me safely to my front door, Connor tried asking again if I'd want a drink with them. I refused once more then proceeded to unlock the door. With the door was securely closed behind me I slipped my shoes off and headed straight to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Apologies for such the long delay, been working multiple jobs at the same time for the last year and am finally about to leave my second job which means more time for writing. My goal is to finish_ As Time Goes By _in the next few weeks as well as more of_ Desperado _written._

 **Chapter 4**

I didn't really pay that much attention to the clock once I got home except to make a mental note that it was 11:04 pm by the time I managed to get my pj's on and my hair down. Every now and then, when I'd try to flip onto my side, the searing pain that radiated throughout my arm would wake me from a dead sleep and I would have to force my face into the pillow to suppress the screams. Perhaps at one point, maybe a few hours ago, I could've sworn I heard my neighbor knocking on the wall between our rooms asking if it was alright. However I was too tired to make a reply and fell back asleep as soon as the pain was gone.

It was about 7:00 in the morning when I was rudely awakened by an un-Godly smell. I rolled over in my bed, turning away from the rising sun and faced the cat that was closest to my head, his eyes were shut and a smile was planted on his face. "You farted," I groaned out before throwing my face back into my pillow. Not even a minute or so later, his brother hit me with another wave of silent but deadly gas.

Now I was irritated.

Throwing the blankets back and crawling out of bed, the pain in my shoulder jolted me awake quicker than a steaming cup of coffee. I shuffled over to the dresser and shut the fan off, then took one of my white pills from its container. I have no intentions on having kids, but it sure as hell helps in making that time of the month more tolerable.

There was no way in hell any place would be open this early in the morning for me to fill my pain meds, so I opted for a couple of ibuprofen to tide me over until I could get down to the drug store. I glanced over at the alarm clock and figured there was no point in trying to get a few more hours of sleep; I could always take a cat nap later that afternoon anyway. Grabbing my cell phone off the dresser, I saw that my friend from back home had texted me back while I had been sitting in the hospital's waiting room the night before.

Again, I sent her another quick message and set about trying to maintain a normal day. Saturdays were usually pretty uneventful to begin with; the only thing I really did was homework from sun up to sun down. Occasionally my studies would be interrupted by a phone call but it was almost always my mom calling to check up on me, making sure I stayed out of trouble…checking to see if I met anyone or gotten laid…

Yes, I have _that_ kind of mom…

Despite having only one working arm I managed to get the dishes from the last few nights cleaned, the bathroom scrubbed, and the living room (mostly) swept. Trying to get the dust and cat fur into the dustpan was proving trickier than I originally thought and I decided to chalk it up as a defeat for the time being. Once I finally had the broom and dustpan tucked away in the closet I flopped down on the couch to turn the news on to see if anything interesting may have happened overnight, maybe see if there was a solid answer to those gunshots I heard last night.

"Good Morning Boston!" Fuck me, not this chipper bitch again! I thought as the reporter did her best to be enthusiastic on a chilly morning. "I'm Molly James and today is Saturday, October 2. This morning we are learning more details about a triple homicide that occurred during the early evening hours yesterday in South Boston. Authorities are not releasing the names of the individuals involved at this time but have confirmed that despite the fact that these men have a criminal past, their deaths were not at the hands of the Saints, rather police believe these deaths may have been the result of a drug deal gone wrong. We will bring you more information as it becomes available.

"A 23 year old Harvard student was killed around 1:30 this morning by a wrong way driver. Authorities say the student was leaving a bar on Tremont Street and was about to merge on to highway 90 when a wrong way driver stuck and killed the student. The driver fled the scene but was located after a brief search. Authorities are awaiting the results of a blood alcohol test before filing charges.

"Let's turn it over to meteorologist…"

Poor kid, no one deserves to die like that, especially by a coward who runs with their tail firmly tucked between their legs. If these Saints are still in business that drunkard should be their next target. Sighing, I picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels, ignoring the vibrations coming from my phone as I tried to find something interesting to watch that wasn't so damn depressing. Settling on a cut up version of _The Terminator_ I dropped the remote unceremoniously to the couch and picked up my phone to see why it was going off.

Glancing at the tiny screen I noticed it was a text from my boss reminding me that he'd be over at my place around 9:00 this morning for breakfast and that they wanted that casserole that I had brought in for lunch one day a few weeks prior. I searched my brain momentarily for who he meant by 'they' and came to the conclusion that he was either bringing his boyfriend over or someone from his extensive group of friends for me to meet.

When I met my boss on the first day of my new job HR had introduced him as Charles; he was wearing a three-piece suit and his hair was slicked back like he was getting ready to kiss the Queen of England's hand. Turns out he was overly dressed that day for a press conference concerning a recent find and some pretty important city officials were going to be present for the event. Once that was done and over with he introduced himself on a bit more of a personal level by taking me and the rest of my department out for drinks and what he called a "getting to know you" dinner at some dive bar.

That night we all let our hair down and Charles became Charlie. Thankfully it has been that way ever since.

I threw my phone on the couch and made my way into the kitchen, pulling the roll of pork sausage out of the fridge that I had placed in there a few days before to let it thaw out. Once I had gotten the sausage in the pan, I grabbed everything else I needed for the casserole including the leftover bacon gravy out of the freezer. About 15 minutes later, the casserole was in the oven and I decided that since I had an hour to kill that now would be as good a time as any to get jumpstart on the laundry. Gathering up the laundry basket, detergent, and fabric softener I awkwardly made my way over to the front door with my keys secured to one of my bra straps. I know it was somewhat Hoosier but I came from a place where it was perfectly acceptable in lieu of a belt loop.

Once I was sure that my cats were safely away from the front door and I was able to close it without their heads poking out at the last minute I made my way to the elevator and pressed the 'down' button, cringing at every squeak the contraption made as it made its way to my floor. The sound of a familiar pair of accents hit my ears and I groaned inwardly knowing that if they saw me not only without my sling on but carrying a basket with at least 3 loads of laundry they may as well tear me a new asshole.

Quickly, I let the basket collapse to the floor with a thud then ripped the rubber band from my hair in a fruitless effort to conceal my face from the onslaught of disapproving looks I knew would be thrown my way should one or both brothers decide to tear into me for disregarding doctors' orders.

As I secured the rubber band around my wrist and knelt down to retrieve the basket I heard the elevator come to an abrupt halt as it reached my floor followed by the doors being thrown open. A distinct throat clearing paused all my actions as I waited for whatever happened next.

"I t'ought da doc told ya no heavy lifting last night?" Connor deadpanned, clearly annoyed.

"I know what the doctor said; he also said not be lifting anything more than 10 pounds. And before either of you start on 'where's your sling' let me just say that it was doing nothing but getting in the way while I was doing my morning cleaning. Look, I've got stuff I have to get done before I have company coming over and I just want to get downstairs and get the laundry going."

I picked up the laundry basket from the floor, grimacing a little bit when my shoulder started spasming and pressed the button for the basement level. It was times like this that I really missed having my own home with a washer and dryer in the basement. I also missed knowing who my neighbors were and sitting on my deck with the fire-pit going on a crisp fall night with the radio on and cold beers in the fridge. Maybe I will have that again one day, but nowhere in the foreseeable future.

While the metal death trap screeched along its tracks I immersed myself in thoughts of what my first winter in Boston would be like. I heard stories upon my arrival of how snow packed the streets were and how, in some neighborhoods, the plows either came late or not at all, leaving residents stranded in their homes.

"Got any plans fer tonight?"

"Huh?" I must've been so lost in my own thoughts that I failed to realize Murphy was asking me a question and waving a hand in front of my face.

"Said ya got any plans fer tonight? Doc's doing his first ever ladies night at da bar and wants it ta be a success."

"Sounds like fun but unfortunately I'm busy tonight, maybe next weekend. Why do ladies night on a Saturday? Most places do it on Friday."

"We told 'im as much but he t'ought Saturdays would be better, ya know try ta keep us boys in line a wee bit more if there were a few pretty lasses ta distract us." Connor chuckled, throwing a wink in my direction.

"What kinda plans ya got fer tonight? If ya don't mind me asking dat is."

"Mostly homework but my boss is setting me up on another blind date."

"Anot'er?"

"Yeah, another; he's determined to turn me into some kind of social butterfly but it's just not my thing. I'd much rather it be…I dunno…"

"More organic?"

"Not necessarily more organic but rather not so forced, ya know?"

"Aye, well if ya change yer mind ya know where ta find us later tonight. And ya better be wearing yer sling." Murphy said sternly, pointing a finger in my face as he tried to put on a serious face.

"Nice try tough guy but next time you try to be serious with me, make sure your eyes aren't twitching. And Connor? The next time you wanna try to hit on me, make sure there's enough whiskey in my veins so I don't have to cringe at those terrible pick-up lines or the equally terrible wink."

As we reached the ground level and the doors parted, I saw Charlie walk into the building with his boyfriend. 'Thank God it wasn't another one of his friends for a breakfast date,' I silently told myself releasing the breath I didn't realize I was holding until his voice greeted me.

"You're early this morning Charlie. Why don't you and Ryan head upstairs and I'll meet you there? I just need to throw this stuff in the washer and then I'll be back. Breakfast is in the oven but it won't be ready for another half hour or so."

He nodded and the pair headed for the stairwell. How they managed to go up six flights of stairs and not get light-headed was beyond me. I could barely make it up three flights at the last apartment I had back home without getting a little sick. I watched as Murphy stepped out, followed by his brother; before he had a chance to open his mouth to speak, I grabbed onto the strap and brought the door back down.

"I t'ink I'll call ya Red since it seems like I won't be getting yer real name anytime soon."

"Like I said last night, my name is whatever you want it to be. If you want to call me Red, be my guest." With that, the elevator started moving again down to the basement level. No one had called me Red since I moved to Boston and before that the only ones who would were my sister and a few of my closest friends. It wasn't just because my hair was red it also had everything to do with my temper. When I was angry enough, I saw the metaphorical blood running before my eyes and tore a path of destruction like a tornado hitting the trailer park.

With all three loads of laundry stuffed into the complex's small laundromat washers, I grabbed the basket and dropped the detergent and the fabric softener at the bottom with a muffled thump then made my back to the elevator. I had reached the third floor with no problems or run-ins with the others who call this place home. Charlie and Ryan were standing outside my door talking about the pair of brothers that were just walking out of the elevator when they got there.

"If I wasn't with you, I would take my chances on that one with the darker hair. He doesn't look like much physically, but I'm sure what he lacks in physicality he makes up for in stamina."

"Tell me how you really feel, Ryan. You were practically eye fucking him once his back was turned to us. Tell you what he would be your free pass if we manage to hit that milestone in our lives just as long as I get a free pass on the other one. He could do anything he wants to me and I'd never complain especially with arms and a chest like that."

"Ryan, the one you were staring at was Murphy; the other was his brother, Connor. Looks alone, I can't blame either of you for asking for a free pass on those two." I unlocked the door to my apartment and kicked my shoes off. "Take your shoes off this time before you step even a centimeter further inside. And before you start, I know that look on your face Charlie and the answer is no. Every guy you have hooked me up with in the past 8 weeks has ended in disaster. They either want what they can't have or they can't handle a brutally honest woman."

We stepped inside and smell of the breakfast casserole hit us all in the faces, leaving my mouth watering for the tasty meal that was about to hit my stomach in less than 30 minutes. While we waited for the casserole to finish up in the oven, we reverted back to childhood and started watching a few Saturday morning cartoons. Sadly, the ones they played on t.v. just weren't the same, but when you have season 1 of Tiny Toons on DVD it kind of makes things a little better. I originally bought it for my nephews to watch when I would babysit them and kept it with me when I moved.

It only took one episode for breakfast to be done and the bacon gravy to get nice and hot. I wasn't expecting anyone else over so when there was a fist banging away on my door, I nearly dropped my bowl on the ground, letting out a small screech. I had an idea of who it was, but I was hoping I was wrong. I hate people dropping by unexpectedly, but I also hate going into defense mode when instead of knocking, I get someone pounding away at my door like it was a brace used for rough sex. Since my gun was hidden in the bedroom, I grabbed a knife from the block in the kitchen and made a beeline towards the door with Charlie hot on heels trying to make a grab for the butt of the handle poking out of my fist.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: So it's been about a month and a half since I last updated this and in that time I've been slowly plucking away at this just trying to get it right. I am no longer at my 2nd job so it frees up a TON of time for me to be able to work on this as well as Desperado & the final chapter of As Time Goes By. If you like this or any of my other works feel free to leave some love on the way out._

 **Chapter 5**

"I swear to God someone better be dead!" I screamed as I flung the door open, the knife positioned in my hand in such a way that whichever one of those Irish bastards was on the other side would be greeted with the pointed end on the tip of their nose.

"Well we do have three bodies in the morgue Miss. May have another if you don't drop that right now."

"Shit! I'm so sorry, I thought it was someone else!" the knife dropped from my hand as I was met by three men, one of whom held a bronze colored badge in his right hand.

"Mind telling us who you thought it was? The asshole that shot you, perhaps?"

"These guys that live upstairs, thought they were checking up on me again. The elderly lady next door, they've done that to her before as a joke and she nearly ripped them a new one."

"And you would know that how?"

"I was carrying some groceries in and saw the whole thing. They were giggling like school girls when they did it."

"So you thought pulling a knife on them would be a wise choice?"

"I wasn't thinking at all, if I'm being honest."

"Clearly. Do you mind if we come in and talk with you about what happened last night? Mitchell put a report on our desk this morning about a mugging that turned violent."

"Yeah, sure, c'mon in and make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, breakfast casserole?" I asked, stepping away from the door and allowing them entry.

"That's what that smell is? Can I _please_ have some? Smecker's been having me go on coffee runs for him for weeks and-"

"Greenly, you ate four doughnuts this morning and drank a whole pot of coffee, you don't need any."

"Sorry about those two, they've been at each other throats since this morning. By the way, I'm Duffy, those two morons are Dolly and Greenly."

I gave them a collective half smile and shut the door, picked up the knife, put the chain in place and led them into the kitchen where it would be a little more private. Picking up my bowl and coffee cup, I set them down on the table and pulled my chair out in an attempt to resume a semi-normal routine as each of the detectives before me retrieved pens and pads from the interiors of their jackets.

"The report Mitchell had on our desk this morning didn't have very much information except to say that you were the victim of a stabbing and that a gun was used in self-defense. If you don't mind taking it from the beginning, what happened?"

"I decided to take my cats for a walk around the block and-"

"Wait a minute! Did you say cats? You took your _cats_ for a _walk_?!"

"Calm down Greenly, it's not as uncommon as you may think." Dolly interjected, bringing his colleague's excitement down a few notches.

"I know that, just never heard of anyone brave enough to do that _here_."

"Sorry about him, ma'am; go ahead and continue."

"It's okay; I'm used to the outbursts. My cats sometimes decide that when they're done with their walk to just lay down on the sidewalk and since they don't like to be held very much I bring their carrier with me that way if someone asks I can just say that I'm on my way home from the vet's office. Anyway, we were coming back around the block, making our way back here when I felt something tug on my hair. I thought maybe it was caught on something, like a rusted piece of metal from a fire escape or something.

"But then I started getting pulled backwards and the next thing I knew my head was bouncing off a brick wall. Obviously I was a little dizzy from that hit to the head but he was muttering and mumbling so much I couldn't really understand what he was saying except that he was making some sort of threat against me. I don't know if he was asking questions or what but out of nowhere I felt a sharp sting in my left shoulder; I pulled my gun from the holster and just started shooting. When the guy was finally off me, I grabbed the cat carrier and just ran back here."

As I concluded my brief synopsis of the night before I picked up my coffee cup and watched from hooded eyes as the trio of detectives scribbled down notes, pausing every once in a while to tap the end of pen against the spirals of the notepad.

"Mitchell's report mentioned that you were asking about the triple homicide last night. You don't know anything about that, do you?" Duffy questioned, tucking his pen behind his ear.

"I heard the shots on my way back here; it's why I put the cats in their carrier. The shots sounded close enough that I ducked down next to some stairs in case some stray bullet was pointed in my general direction."

"And when did you get grabbed?"

"Once the shots stopped I started, not really running but maybe sprinting, as fast as I could with the carrier in my hand. I was probably a block or two away from home and that's when I got grabbed. I dropped the carrier and tried to take my pepper spray out of my pocket but I dropped it. I can take you to where it happened if you need me to."

"Where'd you get the bandages from?"

"Greenly, the fuck kinda stupid question is that?! Ain't it obvious she went to a hospital? Jesus Christ!"

"What? Mitchell didn't say anything in his report about her seeking medical attention and we never got a call from any of the hospitals last night. It's a valid fucking question!"

I couldn't help but snicker a bit at their banter; the three of them reminded me of some of my cousins when they would argue at family functions. My memories were cut short when a throat cleared and Greenly asked his question once more about my bandages.

"The guys I was telling you about earlier were in the elevator with me when I got back and volunteered to walk me down to the hospital last night after I got off the phone with that lazy ass cop. I wanted to go to an urgent care but was told they were closed for the night. I have my discharge papers in the bedroom if you need those as proof that I went. The reason you never got a call from the hospital is because I called to report what happened in the first place to save them the hassle."

"You wouldn't be able to describe the perp, would you? Maybe be able to come down to the station and work with a sketch artist to get a composite done?"

"Sorry, the guy was wearing a mask but if you wanna go down to that alley where it happened you might be able to get some blood samples and run them through some sort of database."

"We could try but you gotta remember DNA testing isn't where we'd like for it to be at the moment. And with these Saints still on the loose they may end up finding this guy long before we do."

"I understand."

"If you don't mind showing us where this all happened we'll start getting everything processed; we'll also need your gun for testing. Once everything is said and done you can get it back but again, it may take some time."

I nodded in understanding and stood up from my place at the table. Walking my empty coffee cup to the sink, I then made a beeline to the bedroom to retrieve my gun as well as a copy of all the hospital records, just in case.

I emerged from the bedroom a short time later with my gun in its holster and the papers from the hospital in a folder, handing them over to Detective Duffy, assuming he was the lead investigator with my case. Walking to the hall closet I found my jacket, slipped it on along with my shoes and announced to Charlie and Ryan that I'd be back in a little bit. The response I received was silence but I figured they were too engrossed with the cartoons playing to pay attention. Picking my keys up off the hook, I led the way to where everything happened.

When we arrived at the mouth of the alley, I stood propped against a corner as the trio scanned the ground for any clues or signs that my story was in fact truth. Greenly snapped the rubber of one of his gloves against his wrist and proceeded to pick up the canister of pepper spray I had dropped the night before, turning on his heels in my general direction to confirm it was mine.

"We got a few shell casings here and some blood; would you be willing to submit to a blood test to confirm which of these stains belongs to you?" Dolly asked, placing yellow evidence markers on the ground for later collection.

"Anything I can do to help speed things up."

He nodded then went back to work placing more evidence markers on the ground near things he felt would be important to the case. After several minutes passed, Duffy walked over to where I was standing, pulling his gloves off and tucking them into his pants pocket.

"I think we have everything we need for now but if we need something else myself or one of these two will be touch. We'll walk you back to your apartment but in the meantime, if there's anything else you want to tell us that you may have left out, here's my card. Call me anytime, day or night. Many times mugging victims or victims of violent crimes feel that these situations are their fault but they're not so if you need to talk to someone, this is the number for a highly recommended psychiatrist that may be able to help if you need it."

He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me all the information I may need in the future then called for the others to wrap things up so I could get back home. It was another 20 minutes before I was finally able to go home between the three of them concluding their initial investigation and the pit stop to a local coffee shop when Greenly's pager went off.

"Where the hell have you been? Thought it was only gonna take a few minutes? What'd you do get gangbanged by a bunch of cops?" I had barely gotten the door shut when the onslaught of questions began.

"Charlie, I'll be blunt; I was mugged and stabbed last night, I didn't get home until well after 11:00 and I've been in a lot of pain all morning. I don't need you riding my ass when I have two guys living upstairs already fulfilling that job."

"Does this mean I should call Jack and tell him to cancel our double date?"

"I'd certainly appreciate it if you did but I know if you and Ryan show up here at 5:30 that your friend doesn't take 'no' for an answer and I'll be forced into yet another dress and also forced into making small talk with someone I have no interest in."

Slipping my shoes off, I plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote to try and find something else on. Charlie fell silent for a few moments but the quiet was interrupted by the flush of the toilet and Ryan emerging from the bathroom with a renewed set of questions of his own.

"We just want to see you happy, you're always so focused on work and school, why are you so against seeing someone?"

"Because no one has e _ver_ let me try this whole dating and relationships thing for myself! Ever since I hit 14 all anyone has ever done was set me up on one blind date after another and I'm just sick and fucking tired of it! The one and only time I actually found someone on my own was years ago and believe it or not I was actually happy for a change; I could be myself with him and it felt right."

"So what happened?"

"He died."

"I'm sorry to hear that and I'm sorry that we didn't know this before."

"I didn't want you to know, at least not yet and definitely not this way. If you could just call your friend and tell him to cancel; we'll reschedule it for another time, maybe after these stiches come out and after finals."

"But that's two months from now, why wait s-"

"I don't have to give you reasons! Just call him and tell him to cancel, alright?!" I snapped, jumping up from the couch, "I think you guys should go. I'll see you at work on Monday Charlie."

They complied with my request with no resistance; once their shoes were on their feet and their jackets were over their shoulders I opened the door to let them out only to be met with Connor standing outside my door stooped down with a sheepish look on his face.

"Just droppin' dis off fer ya; Murph found yer 'script fer da pain meds in da hall earlier and we dropped it off at da pharmacy a bit ago." He stood to his full height and handed the bottle of pain killers over while Ryan and Charlie slipped through the door.

"Thank you."

The awkward silence began to descend upon us when I finally realized that my door was left wide open and the cats were beginning to get a little more than curious as to what was on the other side. Stepping out into the hall, I shut the door behind me and quickly thought of something to say so that he didn't feel compelled to leave abruptly.

"I told Charlie to cancel the double date for tonight so if that invitation for-"

"Ladies Night? Yeah, it's still on da table if yer interested in going, Murph'll be happy ta know yer going."

"I didn't exactly say that I was going but I might turn up for a bit if I manage to get all my homework done and my shoulder's not bothering me too bad. Just remember, with these pills I won't be able to do any drinking."

"What'd da good doc give ya then?"

"Oxycodone," I answered, reading the label and taking note that I was to take one every 6 hours as needed for pain with food.

"I'll certainly let Doc know if ya show up dat yer not drinking."

"I hate to cut this short but my arm is really starting to hurt so I'm gonna take one of these and head back to bed for a bit."

"We'll keep a stool warm fer ya just in case. Sleep tight."

A small smile started to tug at one side of my face as Connor retreated down the hall, heading for the stairs. Turning back towards my door I caught sight of my elderly neighbor poking her head out of the door, her eyebrows wagging up and down in a slightly suggestive manner as she watched Connor disappear from sight.

"Da t'ings I could teach those boys. How ya feelin' lass? Heard about what happened to ya last night."

"Truthfully? I feel like shit."

"You'll be sore fer a while I imagine but at least ya don't have ta worry about anot'er crappy date. Between you and me I'd tell yer boss ta quit coming 'round."

"Aoife, why do you say that? I mean I know it's not good that I let Charlie set me up on all these blind dates but he's only trying t-"

"Don't go around making excuses!" her anger was more than evident as she stepped into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind her. "I know yer just trying ta kiss his arse ta keep yer job and da guys he's setting ya up with are not'ing more den rich bastards dat wanna keep a pretty lass like yerself locked up in an ivory tower. Da moment I met ya, I knew you were a hard worker and ya didn't care about money ot'erwise ya'd have stayed with yer folks. I'd like ta see ya with a real man, one who can take care of ya but is willing ta let ya take care of yerself."

"You mean men like Connor and Murphy? Aoife, I only met them last night and no offense, I can't really take you at your word. I mean they seem nice enough but I just don't know."

"It's yer decision and I'm not yer Ma but at least t'ink about what I said. Hope ya start ta feel better soon lass."

With that my elderly neighbor shuffled her way back inside her apartment, the door quietly shutting behind her and I was left to stand alone in an empty hallway. Figuring that I was already in the hall it was best to change the laundry around then make good on my earlier conversation with Connor to take an Oxy and head back to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Hello?" I groused, slightly angry that I had been awoken after falling asleep with the aid from one of my pain pills.

"I tried everything I could to get my friend to cancel but he just refused to take no for an answer, I even tried to tell him it was your time of the month and he wasn't having it. We're outside your door now and have been knocking for a good five minutes."

"Charlie."

"Yeah?"

"Go to hell, I'm not answering the door." With that I hung the phone up and completely shut the damn thing off.

A persistent knock continued at the door until Aoife finally grew tired of it and began yelling at Charlie to knock it off. Her door slamming against the wall was what drew me out of bed and piqued my curiosity enough to watch everything unfold through the peephole.

"Ya leave da girl alone! She said 'no' and if ya don't quit that damn knocking I'll be calling the boys down here ta get rid of ya! Do ya understand me?!"

"But-"

"No buts! She said 'no' and I said ta leave her alone! She's hurting and wants ta be left alone so if yer friend can't take 'no' fer an answer he needs ta move on! Now, get out of here!"

God bless this woman! I owe her a steak dinner when my shoulder is healed up.

Once I was sure that Charlie had left, or at the very least had gotten back on the elevator, I crept out into the hallway and knocked on Aoife's door. I'll admit, I was nervous since I had never knocked on her door before and our prior meetings always took place in the hall when one of us was coming home from somewhere.

"Oh, it's only you dear, t'ought it was dat boss of yers again. Come in, come in, no reason ta be standing out here lest ya want him ta catch ya and drag ya off ta where ya don't want ta be."

"Thank you Aoife, I owe you more than you realize." I said, stepping just inside and shutting the door behind me.

"No need ta t'ank me lass, I heard ya on da phone saying no. Hope ya forgive me, I don't mean ta be eavesdropping but I hate when folks can't take no fer an answer. C'mon into da kitchen and sit a bit, I've gotta finish getting dinner ready if ya want ta stay fer a bite."

"No need to apologize, I honestly don't know what I would do without you. You've been such a lifesaver since I moved in. I know I need to grow more of spine and-"

"It comes with time. Yer a long way from home and da only family ya have are an hour away in da parts of town most of us wouldn't be caught dead in. How's da arm feeling? Ya t'ink anymore on Connor's offer about later tonight?"

"Still sore, but that's to be expected. I'm going back and forth on whether or not to go to the bar. It's nice that they invited me but I almost feel like they were obligated to say something because they don't want to see the bar fail."

"Maybe but ya never know unless ya go. If I were yer age lass I'd say ta hell with da pain and just go. Ya don't need alcohol ta have a good time, especially not with Connor and Murphy. Da two of 'em alone can show ya how ta have fun on a Saturday night if yer ever interested. Just give 'em a chance and if t'ings don't work out like ya want it to at least you'll have made a few new friends."

"Why does it seem like you always know the right things to say? I wish I had a grandmother who offered such sage advice when I was growing up."

"Well you can consider me yer Granny fer time being, as fer da growing up part we're all still growing. Now, go get ready. I'll call da lads and tell 'em ta meet ya downstairs, don't want anot'er incident like last night if I let ya go out on yer own."

I nodded and left Aoife's wondering how in the hell she managed to get me to agree on going out with two (near) total strangers to a place I had only been to one other time. Walking back into my own apartment I sighed as I flipped the hall light on to find a puke pile next to the door and a crash coming from around the corner in the living room.

"Okay you two, break it up." I started, picking up one of the cats and separating the pair. As I made my way into the kitchen I set the cat down on the table and made an awkward reach for the paper towels I kept hidden in a cabinet when an unexpected knock at the door came, sending the cats skittering across the kitchen for the safety of a hiding place.

"Who is it?"

"Murphy."

"Come in, just watch where you step!" I called out as I heard the door slowly begin to creak open.

"Where are ya?"

"Kitchen."

"What da hell are ya doin'?!"

I was stretched out over the counter, standing on my tip-toes trying to reach the elusive paper towels when Murphy rounded the corner and paused in the doorway. Before I had the chance to respond I found myself being bumped to the side and the paper towels waving in front of my face.

"Thank you."

Tearing a few of the towels off the roll I retreated back into the hallway to clean up the mess the cats left me, a relatively simple task that took a little longer than I would have liked. With both arms working properly I could carry the roll of paper towels under one arm, the can of carpet cleaner under the other and juggle a myriad of other things in both hands all while drinking a cup of coffee. But that's not exactly possible under the current circumstances.

"Ya didn't answer my question."

"I thought it was obvious, but ask me again."

"What da hell are ya doin'?"

"Cleaning cat puke and after I'm done with this I'm gonna go get ready. What are you doing here? Thought Aoife was asking you two to wait downstairs."

"Connor's got a wild hair up his arse about ya going with us."

"What, he doesn't want me to go?"

"Nah, he's getting himself all dressed up."

"Oh please, there ain't no reason to get all gussied up just to go to a bar."

With a wad of paper towels full of cat puke cleaned up I stood as best I could to carry the foul smelling thing to the trash. Truth be told, I probably looked like a newborn baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time. The fun part would be having to do it all over again when I brought in a fresh set of towels, the scrub brush, and carpet foam then trying to get back up.

"I told him just as much but once he's got a hair up his arse about shit, kinda hard ta talk him down. So, ya ever been ta Doc's before?"

"Once, I usually stay in on the weekends with all the homework I have especially right now with mid-terms and finals coming up in a few months. You and your brother must think I've got some sort of stick up my ass or something."

"Nah, some folks just don't really like going out. We've got a cousin back home who's kinda da same way, doesn't really like ta go out on da weekends. She finds more happiness in staying in with a movie, cup of hot tea, and a book. Last time we talked ta her she mentioned somet'ing about picking up a random guy at da bar and taking him home. She got an earful from both of us but we mostly teased her about being a late bloomer."

I nodded as I took in what he was saying knowing full well that he was trying to get me to loosen up a bit and realize that, like his cousin, I was a late bloomer as well and to not put so much thought into it. Once I was sure that the stain would not set into the carpet, I sat back on my heels and put the lid back on the carpet foam and patted the spot dry.

"You wanna do me a favor while we're waiting for your other half to finish up?"

"Depends, what do I get in return?"

"How about…" I thought not really believing that I was getting myself in this situation, "…I buy you a drink, your choice, as long as you keep it under ten bucks? I still have bills to pay this month and my paycheck won't clear until Monday."

I watched from the corner of my eye as his lips took a downward approach and he put on a look that said he'd definitely consider my offer.

"What's the favor?"

"Check downstairs and make sure Charlie's actually gone. I don't want him harassing me anymore tonight."

"And if he's not?"

"Tell him to fuck off and if he asks you're just going out to run an errand and you haven't seen me since this morning."

"Ya got yerself a deal. I'll be having a shot of da good stuff when we get ta Doc's."

Murphy took a couple of quick strides along the short hallway and was out the door in a matter of seconds. The door to the stairwell slammed shut a few seconds later and I figured he'd taken the quickest route down to the first floor. Quickly, I leaned over to shut the door to ensure the cats didn't try to make an escape and made a struggle to stand so I could put away the cleaning supplies before Connor came down. As I was rooting around in the pantry putting things away, another knock sounded on the door and I groaned internally hoping it wasn't Charlie.

"Anyone home? Ya decent lass?"

I exhaled the breath I was holding and closed the pantry door, poking my head around the corner just in time to watch Connor step inside and close the door behind him, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his coat as he looked around.

"I've gotta go get changed real quick and brush my teeth, it should only take 10 minutes if you wanna have a seat and watch a bit of t.v."

"Where's Murph? Did he not come down?"

"He did, asked him to check downstairs to make sure Charlie was gone; he took the stairs down just a minute or two ago."

From the corner of my eye I saw Connor nod his head and remove his hands from his pockets, quietly making his way from the hall to the living room where the t.v. was still tuned to the channel I was watching early this morning. The remote sat on the couch where it could be easily accessed without question. A pair of digits flashed at the top of the screen and then the channel changed in the blink of an eye to a John Wayne movie.

" _Green Berets_ is good but I'm more partial to _McClintock_ and _Big Jake_." I commented as I watched the various characters make their way uphill towards their destination.

"Ya like the Duke?" Connor sounded almost surprised, the excitement and giddiness in his voice making me chuckle a bit.

"I grew up watching John Wayne; every weekend my dad would always find some excuse to put one of his movies on. He's got just about all of his Westerns on VHS."

"What about Charlie Bronson? Ya like his movies too?"

I dropped my head in embarrassment, feeling my neck and cheeks suddenly bloom red. "I've never seen _Death Wish_ or any of his movies unless you count _House of Wax_ and I only saw that one because I love Vincent Price."

"We'll have ta fix dat later. What about Clint Eastwood?"

Before I could answer, the door burst open and just as quickly slammed shut with Murphy huffing and puffing his way into my home, a cigarette clenched tightly between his lips.

"T'ought ya were gonna get ready?"

"I was, got slightly distracted. Connor, ask me again on our way down. Be out in 10."

I quickly disappeared into the bedroom to get ready, not being able to help myself from hearing the boys talk through the thin walls.

"Bloke's still downstairs waiting by da lift fer her ta come down. He's persistent I'll give him dat but if he sees her leaving with us…"

"We may have ta go out t'rough da fire escape and take da back way. Don't want her ta hurt herself even more so we'll have ta help her down da last bit. He say anyt'ing when ya went down?"

"Just if I've seen her, had a phone ta his ear going on about trying ta reschedule a double date. Told him ta beat it if he knew what was good fer him, just waved me off. Popped out fer a bit ta get anot'er pack, came back, and he was still by da lift."

"Ya ever seen any of dese fellas pick her up?"

"Nah, if any of 'em come from money we won't catch 'em 'round here."

I sighed in defeat as I attempted to button my jeans single-handed knowing full well that Charlie wouldn't give up so easily. Another sigh escaped at the realization that these two were absolutely right every way imaginable – these failed blind dates all came from money, would never be caught dead in this part of town, and have no idea what it means to just relax with a beer and some friends on a Saturday night after a stress-filled work week where everything that could wrong did. If the fire escape was my only means to freedom then so be it. These jeans on the other hand were proving to be more of a challenge and I huffed, feeling my hair flutter a bit with the up flow of air.

"Could one of you come in here for a second?" I called out, flopping down on the bed as I continued to try and fasten this damn button.

An almost too quiet knock on the other side of the door caught my attention followed a head of dirty blonde hair. "Almost ready?"

"Connor, I need help," I whined in frustration not really believing that I was acting _this_ childish over a pair of jeans and in front of someone I literally just met the night before.

"What's da matter? Can't find anyt'ing ta wear ta show off yer new battle scar?"

"Very funny smartass, I can't get my jeans to button up. Every time I try my shoulder decides to spasm and it just fucking hurts. Can you please just help me without giving me any shit about it?"

"Alright, can't leave a damsel in distress fer too long. Gimme yer hand, I'll pull ya up." He didn't bother to close the door behind him, just walked in like it was an everyday occurrence. Reaching my right hand out, I was swiftly pulled to my feet with Connor standing directly behind me, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of neck as I attempted to remain neutral (though I must say he smelled _so_ damn good!)

"Ya know, usually when I'm in dis position da girl I'm with is losing her pants, not trying ta get 'em on."

I felt the smirk work its way across his face as his hands slid across my hips to fasten the button. In seconds flat the button was fastened but his hands remained at the front of my jeans, not moving until I turned around to face him.

"And I'm sure the girls you usually bring home are sloppy drunks looking to get their kicks before realizing the next morning that you were just another mistake in a long line of bad decisions. But I'm sure it's the same for you; wake up with a hangover the next morning wishing she'd just go so you can go to confession like a good little Catholic school boy and mark her down as another who just couldn't get enough Irish in her last night. It's a cycle with you, and Murphy as well; just a shame that the cycle repeats itself week after week."

"Are ya some sorta fucking psychology major or somet'ing? The fuck did you come up with all of that?"

"Tell you about it on our way there. If I'm not mistaken I do believe Murphy said that Charlie was still downstairs. And thank you for helping me with this button."

"Murph! Let's fucking go!"


End file.
